Pale Blue Morning
by chatnchew
Summary: Together. That was the key thing to remember. They were together.


The day had just begun. The sun was a slender crescent nestled against the horizon that barely illuminated the world. From the sole window affixed in the threadbare motel room, pale blue morning light filtered in. Past the sleep crusting his eyes Kent looked out across the room at the other bed where Dean slept. The distance wasn't expansive. But it was no less painful. Sometimes they were lucky and managed to swindle a single bed out of the manager; often they found themselves unwilling to press their luck and play things safe. That was one thing Kent always hated about their various travels– they had to pretend to not be together.

Every abstained causal caress, every averted passionate look, every gentle loving nickname– all the losses eventually added up, and Kent was feeling a bizarre sort of hurt. He felt alone, tightly bundled in dusty sheets and across the room.

Well, they were alone, in their own room now. _Together_. That was the key thing to remember. They were together. With a sigh, Kent untangled himself from the mass of bedsheets he had been clinging to and rose up from the mattress. He crossed the room on silent feet and climbed into Dean's bed without hesitation.

It took a minute, but eventually Dean stirred. His deep brown eyes flit open– and then they were closed again, pinching shut against the rest of his disgruntled expression. The light in the room was hardly bright, but he had been deep in sleep. Kent, propped up on one elbow, brushed aside a few of the numerous strands of hair pressed to his forehead absently with a faint smile on his lips.

"Hey," he murmured. Dean opened one eye to peer up at Kent.

"Hey," he returned in a sigh. "What are you doing up? It's a little early…" Dean paused to yawn. "Even for you."

"I had some trouble sleeping." Kent moved his hand down Dean's neck and let it follow the curvature of his shoulder. The beatnik didn't hesitate to pin it between his jaw and shoulder by raising it up, making them both smile with a basic sense of glee.

"And I wanted to be close to you," Kent added in a quick laugh. They both fell silent after that. The only exchange between them was one of gazes, softened by sleep and adoration. The space between them diminished slowly. Their breaths intermingled playfully, another short laugh was shared, and then their lips met in gentle embrace.

Kent was not content to break away for long the moment their kiss ended. He pressed his lips, slightly parted, to Dean's again– and to his delight his kiss was returned with equal enthusiasm. He felt a hand run up his right leg, across his thigh and over the small of his back to finally rest on his hip. Kent caressed Dean's shoulder and neck in turn with a touch that remained soft. They stayed like that for a long while; merely kissing and not straying from chaste points of contact.

Then Kent pulled away, and, just as he caught his breath, Dean leaned back in for another kiss. There was a notable difference that time– he was needier, more desperate. Almost hungry. His tongue vied for Kent's in a way that was impatient. Kent was more than willing to oblige him. It always _excited_ Kent to get him in the mood. If Dean was turned on, so was he.

Kent moved to half straddle him; one leg crossed over Dean's hip to bring them even just a bit closer. After a moment Dean pressed a leg between his and Kent gasped against his lips. Dean, ever careful, rubbed his thigh against Kent's crotch slowly. It didn't take long to have Kent grinding against him in turn.

"Turn over," Kent ordered in a mumble, and Dean rolled onto his back. Kent didn't hesitate to take the position atop him, straddling the other's hips and continuing to press against him in slow, deliberate motions. Eventually Kent was grunting, both out of effort and due to the pleasure he was starting to feel, and below him Dean was writhing with, again, impatience.

"You're teasing," Dean panted. Kent grinned coyly down at him.

"Why don't you try telling me what you want, and maybe I'll do more," he retorted. Words, however, it seemed were not what Dean was keen on relying on. He sat up and grabbed Kent by his rear– causing him to squeal –and half removed his pesky boxers in a sharp tug. Kent had to laugh.

"You've still got your tighy-whiteys on, smartass," he pointed out. It was Dean's turn to smirk, albeit wryly. Another squeeze had Kent silent and pink in the face.

"If you take care of yours, sugar," he said in a low voice, Southern accent creeping onto the backs of his words, "I'll take care of mine." Dean let go of Kent to do just that. Kent practically scrambled to remove his boxers and went the extra mile to peel off his undershirt as well. Dean, laughing, followed his example without the haste.

Kent grappled onto Dean with needy hands the moment he was bare, planting kisses all over Dean's face to keep him laughing. "Come here, you little minx." The words were almost muted against Dean's cheeks.

"Alright already, alright!" Dean held Kent at arms length as he came down from his bout of joy. "Come on, we're gonna wake the neighbors making all this noise and we haven't even started doing anything yet." Kent managed to dial himself back down, taking the time to sigh and blink a few times.

"Okay. Alright. You can kiss me now," he declared, puckering his lips in preparation. Dean rolled his eyes but pulled him close to kiss him anyways. They were chaste again– playfulness tended to render them such –but when Dean dared to grab a fistful of Kent's shock-of-red hair, the electricity that had overtaken them returned. The kiss ended with them both breathing heavy.

After a bit of necessary preparation, Kent needed no aid to take Dean inside of him. He was beyond the need for foreplay at that point; Dean needed to be inside of him. Now.

He sank down with his mouth open in a prolonged, staggered moan, hands gripping the other's shoulders with alternating strength. Dean buried his face against the pale skin of his neck, leaving dull red marks along the curve of his shoulder and Kent whimpering approval. When Kent rocked his hips again it was with enough energy to make the bed squeak. Dean did not remain idle. He bucked his hips in turn, sending a jolt throughout Kent that had him feeling mirthfully warm and dazzlingly light. He bit his lip to try and keep quiet– but with both of them rutting against the other it was impossible.

In the corner of his attention Kent noted each low, muffled sound from Dean that hit his neck in a hot breath. He noted how it felt to have his cock pressed between their stomachs, leaving an erratic trail of precum on both tanned and fair skin as they moved. He noted how the feeling of being alone was entirely gone with Dean this close to him, holding on to him, needing him. Kent's head bowed forward and he dug his nails into the skin of Dean's back as he kept calling out his name, moaning and whining for him to continue.

Even in that cheap motel, awake at the barely began break of dawn, Kent felt like he was in paradise. It was like being in an oasis, where nothing outside mattered. He never wanted the moment to end.

As he came he tensed up dramatically. His legs folded against Dean's back and his face burrowed against the crook of Dean's neck. His lewd, unabashed noise trailed off into nothing more than heavy breathing as he sorted through the bright spots in his vision. His hips moved in erratic, short thrusts as he rode out the rest of his climax. After a moment he felt Dean slump back against the headboard, trying to catch his own breath.

"…Goddamn," Kent murmured. "That, uh… That might have been the best sex we've had in a while. Don't you think?" He lifted his head to grin at Dean; a hint of exhaustion tinged both of their features. Dean nodded, eyes closed with a smile on his face.

"Yeah, maybe. Do you think you could–"

"Oh, yeah, sure–" Kent moved to sit beside him and rest his head against Dean's chest. "I don't think I want to get up yet. Mind if I just… Sleep here?" He was already yawning.

"Sure," Dean replied in his own yawn. He pulled up the (now sullied) sheets to cover them up to their midsections. Kent smiled and settled against him further before closing his eyes. Dean chuckled before closing his own.

"Sleep tight, tiger."


End file.
